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Rain pattered softly outside Vee’s room, its steady rhythm threading through the still air inside. Dim light filtered in through the speckled window, barely reaching the corners of the cozy space. A single lamp glowed in the corner, its light golden and still. Vee lay draped over the couch in pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt from her merchandise department. Her screen flickered lazily between static and local weather reruns. Wrapped in a thick blanket, she barely moved, except to trace a finger absently across the fabric. Her thoughts, like her screen, were flickering and unreadable.
A knock came at the door.
"No," Vee groaned, her voice muffled by the blanket. "Go away. I’m doing nothing."
The door creaked open anyway.
Shelly stepped inside, soaked from the rain but beaming with warmth. She carried an oversized picnic basket nearly as big as she was and wore fuzzy ammonite-patterned pajamas, her cheeks pink from the cold. Water dripped from her poncho as she kicked it off, revealing dinosaur claw-shaped socks.
"Doing nothing sounds lonely," she said cheerfully. "Good thing I brought everything!"
“Why are you like this,” Vee muttered, not quite annoyed, not quite amused.
Shelly paused as Vee groaned and burrowed deeper into the couch, a flicker of doubt crossing her face. Then she shrugged and began unpacking the picnic anyway. “You know, I’m pretty sure I’m your favorite person… even if you’re pretending to hate me right now.”
She began unpacking the basket like she was performing a magic trick: mini muffins, a giant thermos of tea, two kinds of jam, and a small mysterious bundle wrapped in a napkin. The food wasn’t the point—it never was with Vee—but Shelly liked creating moments. Even if one of them couldn’t taste a bite.
“Okay, okay,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows. “We’ve got: mini muffins, one giant thermos of tea, two kinds of jam I found at that weird shop you hate, aaand—a surprise!”
“If it’s edible, it’s not a surprise to me,” Vee replied dryly.
“Rude! No. This.”
She paused, a little theatrically, like a magician about to pull a rabbit from a hat. Then she dug into the basket and pulled out a tiny toy projector. With a satisfying click, it flickered to life.
Soft images danced across the ceiling—long-necked cartoon dinosaurs plodding through primeval landscapes, pterosaurs gliding in lazy circles. The room lit with ancient motion.
“Ta-da! Now it’s a learning experience.”
Vee watched, head half on the couch cushion, the soft light from the projector glowing across her screen. Her tone softened.
"...Okay. That’s actually kind of nice.”
Shelly grinned and nestled herself next to her, settling against the couch and pulling the blanket to cover them both. Their legs tangled comfortably.
"You’re welcome," she said, pouring herself a cup of tea, the thermos hissing softly. She placed a second one next to Vee out of habit, even though she knew it would remain untouched. Vee didn’t mind, though.
The room fell into an easy silence, filled only by the soft rainfall, the scent of honeyed herbs, and the occasional shift of a blanket. Shelly, never one to stay still for long, sipped her tea and glanced up at the ceiling.
Her voice was quiet when she spoke again, almost like she was thinking aloud.
"...Triceratops herds could migrate up to a hundred miles seasonally, did you know that?" she began. "They traveled in these giant family groups—tons of little ones surrounded by the adults. Like a scaly wagon wheel."
She paused for a sip, eyes still fixed on the projected dinosaurs wandering lazily across the ceiling.
Vee blinked slowly. Her screen flickered, then dimmed to a softer hue. She shifted a little closer, then a little more, before finally resting her head in Shelly’s lap.
"Mmm. No, didn’t know that," she murmured. Vee shifted a little on the couch, tucking herself deeper into the blanket. Her eyelids flutter shut, but she doesn’t say anything at first—just listens to Shelly’s voice. It’s soothing in the way that only someone who knows you well can be. "Keep talkin’. You sound nice."
Shelly blinked, caught a little off guard by the tenderness, but her hands instinctively began to move—fingers brushing along the edge of Vee’s screen, gentle and absent-minded.
"Some fossils show their feet wore down the same way on one side," she continued quietly, "which might mean they walked in circles during storms. Isn’t that cute? Just… spinning in a safe little group until the weather passed."
"Smart," Vee mumbled. "Wish I could do that."
"What, walk in a circle?"
"No. Hide somewhere soft when everything gets loud. Maybe with a nerd who won’t stop talking about dinosaur feet."
"Hey," Shelly said, mock-offended. "That nerd is very charming."
"Painfully," Vee said.
Shelly leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top edge of Vee’s screen, right where her eyes usually flickered into being. Vee didn’t move, but her screen glowed faintly pink.
"You’re warm today," Shelly said softly. "Not just the screen kind of warm."
"It’s because you’re here."
With a small smile, Shelly tucked the blanket more securely around them. Her voice lowered to a hush. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me to leave.”
"Don’t."
The projector hummed on, casting ancient creatures across the ceiling. Rain continued its steady rhythm outside. Vee's screen dimmed further, fading into soft, sleepy light.
You... you didn’t have to come, but I’m glad you did,” Vee murmured. “I forgot how much I needed someone to just be here.”
"Always will," Shelly whispered.
And so she kept talking—softly, lovingly—about fossil beds and prehistoric coastlines, her voice drifting like warm tea steam into the quiet room, grounding them both. Her words eventually blurred with the sound of the rain, like background music tailored to calm the busiest mind. Even Vee's static softened into a steady rhythm, synced to the rise and fall of Shelly’s breathing.
After a while, Shelly paused, thinking Vee had dozed off. But a muffled voice rose from the blanket.
"Tell me about the tiny ones again. The... what were they called?"
Shelly smiled, rubbing her thumb along the side of Vee’s screen. "The Protoceratops? The ones with the stubby little frills?"
"Mhm. Them. They sound funny."
"They’re adorable," Shelly said. "Barely the size of a dog. Their nests were perfect little circles, and they probably took turns babysitting. Imagine that. Dinosaur daycare."
Vee's screen flickered fondly, static blooming into soft pastel patterns. "You make all of it sound important."
"It is important," Shelly said. "Even the little things. Especially the little things."
Vee didn’t answer, but her hand found Shelly’s, and their fingers curled together beneath the blanket. Nothing flashy. Just connection, soft and close.
Eventually, the rain began to ease, but neither of them noticed.
Because here, beneath the flicker of ancient creatures and the hush of gentle rain, with tea between them and warmth pressed shoulder to shoulder—they had everything they needed.